dle of the seventh week, one of
Willie Kerr's cryptic messages lay beside Mrs. Heth's breakfast plate on
a morning. It ran:

I think he will come at 5.30 o'clock
Wednesday. Better arrive first?

W.K.

Willie's cipher (he liked to write as if he lived in Russia, with the
postal spies after him like hawks) was no mystery to Mrs. Heth, she
being, in a certain measure, its inventor. Having taken the telegraphic
brevity upstairs to show to Carlisle, she disappeared into the telephone
booth, to rearrange her afternoon. If all subscribers to the telephonic
system were as tireless users as she, probably fewer people would have
made large fortunes by the timely purchase of forty dollars worth
of stock.

This was a Wednesday morning in mid-December. Carlisle, recuperating
from a gay debutante rout on the evening preceding, remained in bed. By
this time the "season" was well under way: all signs promised an
exceptionally gay winter, and Carlisle was, as ever, in constant demand.
She had meant to spend the morning in bed anyway, and then besides her
mother had pointed out the necessity of being fresh for the
afternoon....

From the moment of their abrupt parting at the Beach, Carlisle had not
set eyes upon Mr. Canning, though he was known to have lingered as a
house-guest all through the following week. The circumstance had
surprised her considerably at the time, until she had thought out some
satisfactory explanations for it. To-day her maidenly thoughts assumed a
wholly prospective character, very agreeable and cheery. Mr. Canning,
having arrived yesterday from some southerly resort of his choice, was
again staying at the Payne fort on the Three Winds Road, his reported
design being to ride a few times with the Cold Run hounds, otherwise
barricading himself as unsocially as before. Still, he expected to
remain for a week at least, which was very nice; and under these
circumstances it was as natural as possible that his connoisseurship
should be asked to pass judgment on the new little bachelor apartment in
Bellingham Court, where his friend Kerr was just comfortably
installed.... Where, also, no impossible stranger could intrude himself
upon the company of his betters, with revivalist vocabulary and
killjoy face.

The clock stood at eleven. The drawn shades imparted a restful dimness
to the bedroom, but the reliable maid Flora had been in to shut the
windows and start a merry fire in the grate. This room h